How To Break Me
by swiftingfandoms
Summary: After the events of the 3rd Quarter Quell, fellow victors Peeta Mellark, Johanna Mason, and Annie Cresta are taken prisoner in the Capitol. Told in the alternated POVs of the trio, unlock the tale of what went on during their imprisonment before they are eventually rescued. (Notice: I do not own any part of THG. All rights go to Suzanne Collins)
1. Eyes Open

**Peeta**

When I wake up from what felt like an endless sleep, I do not find myself in the jungle that was last called the arena for the 75th Hunger Games. I do not find myself in a hovercraft that returns me home to District 12. No, I find myself in a room that is, inch by inch, pure white.

I sit up from the cold tile floor I found myself lying on. I instantly feel a pang of agony in my head as I do, and I grit my teeth in spite of it. When I look down at myself, I see that rather in the jumpsuit I was dressed in in the arena, I am covered in a plain white tee shirt and baggy pair of white trousers. My feet are bare, omitting the bruises I can detect on them. As a matter-of-fact, I take note of the endless bruises I find on my skin.

Where am I? How did I get here?

Where is Katniss?

"Katniss!" I cry out impetuously. "Katniss!"

I receive no response as a greeting.

I bite my tongue in the name of my solicitude for her. Stupid! I scream to myself. Stupid! Why would you let her out of your sight that night? Why did you follow Beetee's stupid plan anyway? She could be dead! It would be all your fault. Damn you!

My fist makes contact with the wall adjacent to me in one swift movement. Vibrations shiver in the marble.

"Hey, keep it down, Lover Boy. I really could enjoy the sleep."

I recognize the voice, and the volume of can clearly show that the owner of it is right next to me. "Johanna? Is it really you?"

"No, it's Finnick. Who else could it be?"

I try and force a laugh, but it can't release. I drop it.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

"Well, my head hurts like Hell, I have cuts and burns all over me, and I'm ninety percent sure that we're in the Capitol. Yeah, I feel great!"

I gulp. _I'm ninety percent sure we're in the Capitol_.

Everything feels like a blur. Maybe it's the headache that I contracted, or perhaps it's because I'm lost in a maze of confusion. All I can remember is being in that hazardously humid jungle, in the silence of the night, then everything exploding, burning to crisps. And now, I am locked in a Capitol cell. Or supposedly am locked up in one, though Johanna's guess about it seems accurate enough. Back home in Twelve, the prison consisted of a small cinder block building with a small count of cells. Despite the fact that I have not the vaguest idea of what the other prisons are like in the other various districts, more than likely none of them can afford to have marble walls. Well, maybe Districts One and Two, but I can not stir up any reason as to why we'd be taken there.

"Do you remember anything?" I ask Johanna.

Nothing comes out of her for a moment. "I remember the explosion. I remember waking up in a hovercraft and asking where the crap I was."

"And what did they say?"

"Someone immediately came and gave me a shot of something in my arm. I fell right back asleep. I never got an answer."

I wait for her to add on, but she doesn't.

"That's it?" I confirm.

"Yeah. It kills me to barely remember anything."

"I know. I just...think I could figure out this whole thing if I just have some answers. If we are in the Capitol, as you said, then what does Snow want from us?"

"To use us," she hisses. "I can bet on it. He will use us for something. To get something he desires. Peeta, let your eyes open. He wouldn't just lock us in here for no reason."

"So what do we do?" I ask.

"Honestly, I don't know. If we tried escaping, it'd practically be suicide. Besides, you can't escape here. There are Peacekeepers covering every inch of the place."

"Fair point."

"Sorry, Lover Boy. I'm brain dead."

My heart drops like an anchor deep, deep, deep into my stomach. I feel hopeless. It seems to be that this is my new habitat. And I am an animal that cannot adapt.

I sigh.

"Any other questions while we're on a roll?"

"Um..." I pause after that, trying to think of even the most tiniest of a question. My curiosity brings in a question. "How long have we been here?"

"More than likely we got knocked out from the arena. Concussion from the blow maybe. I'd bet my money on at least a week. Wait, maybe you got a concussion, I didn't. I woke up on the hovercraft, and I know it didn't take a few days to get from the arena to the Capitol. Whatever medication they gave me made me sleep for a few days, I guess. That could be it."

The prediction seems good enough for me. It would explain why I felt like I was sleeping for ages. And why I believe that my stomach will eat itself due to my aching hunger.

"Or," she starts mumbling under her breath, "I could have imagined the hovercraft thing and have gotten a concussion." I get lost on her logic after that.

Johanna inhales and exhales a sigh.

"Well," she says, "if you don't mind now, I'm going to figure out a way to fall back asleep again. You should try to, too. But if you absolutely can't, try seeing if you got any playing cards in your cabinet."

"My cabinet?"

"Back wall. Just look for the silver handle and pull out like an oven."

I search for a moment before finally finding it, very well blended into the wall. When I open it, a white cardboard box that can fit in my palm rests in the interior. I remove it, open the box, and find a deck of cards.

"Found them," I announce.

"Congrats. Now figure out what you're going to do with them so I can sleep. _Please_. Goodnight, Peeta."

"Goodnight, Johanna," I respond, despite the fact I have no idea what time of day it is.

What seems like an hour passes. I master self-teaching myself the art of building houses of cards. Johanna quietly sleeps. I know she is because there is an occasional snore that's loud enough to hear. Frankly, her snore is hilarious, but I choose to not tell Johanna this. I don't want to loose the only companion I could have in prison.

Abruptly in a silent moment, my house of cards collapses and the cards littered all over my cell floor, and Johanna curses loudly. These events both did not occur together by coincidence.

It was the horrific scream of Annie Cresta that set us off.


	2. Untouchable

**A/N: Hi guys! I'm so glad to see I got some reviews on this already. I'm going to try to shoot for at least one update every week on Friday. I'd do more but I have school and all so...anyway, I have so many ideas for this. If you do as well, don't hesitate to comment them. Thank you so much for reading!**

* * *

**Annie**

There are two Peacekeepers carrying me, each one with one of my arms locked in their glove-covered hands. The pressure that they're squeezing on me is unbearable. Screaming does nothing, my attempts at trying to fight them flunk.

They drag me down numerous halls, all colored the same shade of white. Another hallway. A flight of stairs. Three more hallways.

Our final destination is a room as white as the halls I've previously passed. And this room is consisted of various prison cells. From what I can see, each cell is it's own cube, a metal bar gate enclosing one of the four sides. A majority of them are empty, but some are filled with filthy people as thin as toothpicks. I dare to glance at them for just a second, then cock my head in another direction with my eyes closed to try and delete the image from my mind.

The cell we park in front of is abandoned from all the others. The lightbulb in the hall where my cell lies is burned out, so for the vast part, it is hauntingly dark. One of the Peacekeepers releases my arm - which is instantly grabbed by the other one - and unlocks the cell gate, then swings it open. The one that had the firm grip on my arms literally shoves me inside, brutal. After locking the gate back up, the two of them depart from my vision, mumbling something to each other that I can't make out.

I sit down on the freezing tile floor, my back against the marble wall, my arms curling around myself. Salty tears slide down my cheeks involuntarily, and I don't even bother them. I let them go.

I'd be fibbing if I told a soul that I wasn't horrified as of now. It's one thing to be arrested for not showing up to reapings, but to be arrested for not the vaguest idea of a reason? Cruel to the heart. Before Finnick had left for the Capitol for the Games, he told me to stay at home as much as possible. To rarely go out. Hadn't I done that? I think so.

Insane to believe that only less than a day ago, I was home in District Four. I had been cleaning the house up the day the day they came. When a knock on the door sounded, I hurried, hoping to find Finnick, only not finding him. Just a body of Peacekeepers.

I should have wised up and realize there was danger lurking in them. But, of course, all I could do is ask was, "May I help you?"

I received no reply. Unless if you considered the shout of a Peacekeeper that said, "Grab her!" and the synchronized movement of the others reaching for me.

There was no escaping them. I had darted upstairs anyway, hoping I could find a hidden place for safety. Stupid me to think I could outsmart them. Because now...

Well.

Out in the distance, I hear a striking scream, belonging to a man. My hands quickly find their way to my ears, tightly sealing themselves to filter out the scream.

It sounds like Mikee. Just like Mikee. Right before the ax flew in. You could've swore it was a bird. But not many birds can behead people.

I shut my eyes. Tight. I press my hands over my ears. Harder.

I feel myself becoming drowsy.

And I fall asleep.

* * *

Pain shoots inside of my side, and I wake up from my dreamless sleep. How long I was out, I can't tell. When I look down at myself, I am in new clothing. A white tank top and loose white pants.

When I look up, I see that I am not alone.

"Miss Cresta, we are here to escort you to President Snow."

The man the voice belongs to is not a Peacekeeper, though he is surrounded by them. He is clothed in a black leather jacket, black shirt, and black cargo trousers, oh, and black combat boots. His eyes could display his gentleness, but currently, they are masked in a costume of sober.

The man holds a hand out to help me up but I reject it by standing up on my own. Something I can do by myself. I shoot him a look. His is plastered solemn as response.

He leads the line, me following, then the Peacekeepers who are preventing my possible escape surrounding me. I stay obedient and walk behind the man, who's name I find out is Ed.

We stop in front of a pair of heavy wooden doors. Ed knocks on the door twice, then speaks. "Mr. President, Miss Cresta is here."

"Splendid. Don't hesitate to bring her in," I hear him respond.

Ed opens the door and motions for me to head inside.

And as an obedient girl should do, I walk inside.

President Snow is reading a book of some sort, but he catches sight of me and sets it away. "Miss Cresta. What a pleasure to have you here. Sit, please."

I show not a trace of emotion to him, but I do sit down in the red velvet chair.

He searches my face with his despicable eyes for a moment, then grins. "How are you feeling, Miss Cresta?"

"I've been better," I say frank.

"Yes, well. I apologize for the inconvenience. But there is a matter in which I have invited you to my mansion today."

"You have a way of treating your guests," I snap back. The anger is boiling inside of me. The man sitting right across from me is the same one who brought the Games to this world. The one that killed innocent children, who barely got a chance to live. He's the one who departed Finnick from me. And it's why I'm not safe in Finnick's arms now. And here he is. Apologizing.

"I'm not here to discuss my guest treatment with you, Miss Cresta. Can you make an educated guess as to why you are sitting in my office at the current moment?"

I nod. Where a specific idea does not come to mind, I know of a very general foundation. "Finnick."

"Yes, you are heading down the right track. Mr. Odair is such a lovely man. He must love you a lot.

"But unfortunately, some young men have the tendency to make impetuous decisions, and then not realize what they're doing until they become in very grave danger. You see, it appears that Finnick wanted to...switch sides. Do you understand what I am talking about?"

I stare at him in puzzlement. I have no idea what he is talking about. Switch sides? I can't seem to figure out where this discussion is heading.

I shake my head ever so lightly.

President Snow half-gapes at me. "Pardon me?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I explain.

"Is that so?"

"It is, sir." And that's probably because it is.

President Snow tries to piece this together. This is what I suppose.

"You know what? Kill me if you don't believe me. That is the truth." I really didn't mean that. It's be nice to come out of this office alive.

"I can't kill you, Miss Cresta. That's not what is laid out.

"You see, I believe you. I believe Mr. Odair would tell you nothing of the sort for your protection. But you must understand, I did not bring you here to the Capitol for no reason. You see, the system of Panem is on the verge of collapsing, and we can't have that, can we? And I feel you have something in you that could help us function the country.

"Miss Cresta, you have a very simple role here. And that is to be cooperative during your stay in the Capitol. If you can manage that, no harm will come to you. I advise you to prevent yourself from stepping out of line. You are an untouchable as to execution already. Can we agree on this?"

I nod. An untouchable. I can't be killed. A sliver of a weight is lifted. But to be cooperative with a man who made people judge me as a mad girl will be difficult.

"Good girl. Now, Edward will return you to your cell, and I will have the attendants mail you something to eat through your cabinet. Edward can show you where that is if you couldn't find it already."

"Thank you," I reply.

"It's my pleasure. You must be on your way now."

I stand up from the chair and exit the room, Ed by my side as we walk back to my cell.

My mind races back to the deal that President Snow and I just agreed on. It seems too simple to not have a scheme in there. All I have to do is cooperate and I'm fine? And cooperative or not, I cannot die?

I struggle to find the flaw in this deal. Perhaps there is not one.

Ed drags behind the Peacekeepers to whisper things to each other that I can't make out clearly. We walk down the white hallways, in bare silence.

After walking about dive minutes already, he is still chatting with them, though I do not know for what. It is at one point where Ed speaks too loud.

"Odair won't function as long she's here. He's hopeless."

And it is as if the world was being formed into a big, clear picture as we speak. I may be considered mad, but I am not dumb. I put the pieces of the puzzle together.

I am not here to help President Snow function Panem.

I am here to be used as a weapon against Finnick. My heart's savior. The best thing that has ever happened to me.

The darkness interlocks with the pain of the truth I just discovered. Mikee's cries of terror find it's way into me. President Snow joins in too. And Finnick, screaming my name.

Everything in my body stops working. I collapse onto my knees, lift my hands over my ears, and scream my head off.


	3. Cold As You

**Johanna**

To say that hearing Annie scream like that is frightening as Hell seems accurate enough for me. Her in that kind of agony sinks my heart, because I know Finnick. And if he were locked up in a cell and heard the only person on Earth he loves cry out like that, well, he would loose it. Bad. Rip his hair out until his head was bleeding lakes, cry oceans of tears. It's that awful of a shriek.

Snow caused that. No doubt that cold-hearted monster did it. Or _is_ doing it. Is she being tortured right now? The endless kinds they could be putting her through right as we speak. Forcing her to watch reruns of her old Games. Making simulations of Finnick being harmed and presenting them to her. The possibilities stretch out into an infinity. Someone as mad as her could loose themselves over things such as that.

Or the rebellion! Snow probably believes she knows something about it and she can't give him the answers he's looking for. Being harmed for being oblivious to it. No doubt about it, Finnick would never tell Annie about it, knowing how vulnerable she'd become for owning information about it, and him being so overprotective about her and all.

Now that I think about it, I'm starting to piece together my own questions and answers. Is the rebellion the reason Snow has me? He thinks I know something! Yes, that must be it. I'm no weapon against anyone, that's for sure. Well, if anyone, Finnick, but that's only because we're close friends. I'm guaranteed to believe Annie is the only person on his mind now. Wherever he is.

A man's voice echoes in the distance. "Take Miss Cresta to her cell. Snow's done with her for a while. Besides, I don't know what else to do with her."

Annie screams for them to let her go, but I assume they ignored her, due to her repeatings of it over and over again fading in the distance.

When it's still quiet, I hear Peeta say from the cell next to me, "That was brutal."

I sigh. "Yeah, well, welcome to the Capitol."

"I'm serious."

"I know that, Lover Boy."

"Quit calling me that. Please. Peeta's fine."

"Whatever."

"What's gotten into you? You were fine an hour ago."

I find it too hazardous for both Peeta and I if I tried explaining about my theory. Who knows what kind of recorders or cameras are hidden here?

So I say, "Nothing. Just...lost."

"Same here."

* * *

Dreadful time passes. Turns out the cabinets in our cells send us food so we don't starve to death. Nothing extravagant. Usually a glass of water and a slice or two of day-old bread. I decide I won't complain since it's edible, but water that doesn't have susceptible particles swimming in the glass would be nice.

Beating boredom consisted of sleeping, talking to Peeta, fooling around with the deck of playing cards provided, or thinking about what the future holds.

"Johanna?" Peeta says a bit after our second serving of water and bread have been delivered for the day.

"Yeah?" I take a gulp of the ugly-colored water.

"I wanted to ask, but if you don't want to answer for any reason-"

"I can't decide if I want to answer or not if I don't know the question," I point out. "So maybe you should ask."

"Okay then," he replies. I hear him take a deep breath and he says, "You remember how in the arena you said there wasn't anyone left that you loved?"

"That rings a bell," I say. "Why?"

"Well, is that really true? Do you really not love anyone?"

Well. The way he worded that made me sound ruthless. Of course there are people that I love.

"My family," I say. "But they're...all...dead."

I haven't had much time to run through memories of them. My parents. My younger sister Taylor. And it's as if the reunion of all my loved ones come into my mind to remind me of my haunted past.

Uncle Drew who first taught me the skills to an ax.

Carmen, the closest person I could count on to be my friend prior to meeting Finnick.

"Oh. I'm so sorry, Johanna."

He cuts off my thoughts with his sorrowful response. I want to shrug it off, but I can't. It's not exactly something you can shrug off.

"I know, I just miss them," I say. After a long pause, I speak up. "I lost my sister in the Games. My parents...well, it was because of me. My good friend died from an illness a few days after my Games."

"That's awful. Really."

"No dip."

"Johanna, you don't always have to be angrily sarcastic about everything. Where will that get you?" I can barely catch him softly breath the words, "in here, specifically."

"I'm choleric, really. And a sarcastic piece of crap. That's just who I am, Peeta. You should know that."

"Were you always so rough?

"You're questions are very ruthless."

"They're only as cold as you, Johanna Mason," Peeta points out.

Neither of us say anything else.

* * *

What I presume to be a groggy two days later, Peeta and I exchanging less conversation than usual, something bizarre happens.

I greeted my slightly cleaner water and, this time, a stack of stale crackers as tall as my pinkie in my cabinet after waking up. No one stops me from eating all of the pile and downing down only half the water. Except when the footsteps approached.

I wish there was a way to turn down the volume of the footsteps. I suddenly came very vulnerable to fright, and once the anxiety reaches inside of me, I can't get it out. It's not right for me to be nervous. I'm suppose to be as tough as nails, but it seems I'm only as tough as cotton now. Conceal it, I order myself. Be cold.

A shadow arrives. I take my time standing up and approaching the cell's gate. Through the gaps of the metal bars a man surrounded by numerous Peacekeepers stands somewhere between my cell and Peeta's.

It's his voice that sounds familiar.

"Mr. Mellark," the short, thin and gray-haired man says, "my name is Ed. I am here to escort you to President Snow, who wishes to see you."

I gulp. Uh oh. Snow wants to see Peeta, meaning something is wrong. As much as the whole Lover Boy act annoys me, the idea of Snow doing something awful to the fragile personality of him was unthinkable.

"Well, what does he want?" I snap without a thought.

"That I cannot say, for I don't know. I'm just Mr. President's assistant."

Oh! Now I recognize it! The voice. He is the one who told someone or some people to take Annie away.

I can make out Ed unlocking the gate of his cell. Peeta steps out as asked, a gait that's as soft as he is. The gate shuts.

"Good. Now follow me, if you will. We have about a three minute walk to start on. Come along."

Peeta manages to take a quick glance at me, then I see it.

A shake of his head.

And then he's gone from my vision.

* * *

Story Question: What's going to happen to Peeta?


	4. Haunted

**A/N: Prior warning: This chapter is where the violence begins. If you're sensitive to this type of thing, please read at your own risk!**

* * *

**Peeta**

The walk drags on and on. Rather than three minutes, it seems to go on for a three _year_ extent.

We finally stop at a single door that blends in with the white marble of the wall. Ed pulls it open and allows me to enter first.

Inside the large room, there is no marble. It is as white as clouds, though. The clouds you see on a day where everything in the world seems grand.

Like the day when I first saw Katniss at school.

"Mr. Mellark," Ed says, shaking me out of the idea of daydreaming. "Can you please sit in the chair?"

"Oh. I'm sorry," I apologize. I hurry over to the large wooden chair that rests in the middle of the room and settle myself on it. Ed steps out of the room and closes the door behind him.

I soon realize the crisp chill that remains in the room. My clothing does no support to protect me against it; it's as if I was naked in here. I rub my hands up and down my arms to try and give myself some warmth. Something I cannot give Katniss while I'm here.

Katniss. My heart hurts from being unaware of her condition now. She could be dead. She could be alive. Harmed, but alive. Stupid me. Stupid me. My stupid ways.

My mind floats to many years ago.

* * *

Five years old. Yes.

The school was only a four minute walk from the bakery. My mom had dressed me in a white top tucked into a pair of black trousers. As much as she wanted to go with me to my first day of school, someone had to watch the bakery, so my dad volunteered to take me to school and my mother could pick me up.

Yes. That was right.

When my dad and I arrived at the school, we find two lines formed outside the small school building. We had gotten into the one on the left side.

After minutes of waiting in the line, no progress had occurred, my dad had tapped me on the shoulder.

"See that little girl?" he said. I followed the direction his finger was pointing to. There she was in the second line, holding her mother's hand. Clothed in a red plaid dress, hair sculpted into two braids that hung over her shoulders. "I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner."

"A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?" I had asked.

"Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen."

Later in the day is when I found out her name. The teacher in music assembly called it out. "Katniss Everdeen?"

"Here!" she had called out in her youthful feminine voice.

Shortly after attendance, I recall, we were all sitting in a circle formed from the students of the class. I never really paid much attention to the other students as one by one they sang for the class.

"Now then, does anyone here know the valley song?"

On cue in my memory, Katniss shot her hand up in the air.

"Excellent! Would you like to sing it for us?"

Katniss agreed. The teacher helped her up onto a stool and when the class grew quiet, she began. Her gentle, melodic voice swam through the room.

I paid full attention. Not one little sound could interrupt her singing without being despicable. No doubt she got her singing from her father, if what my father says about her dad's singing voice is true.

When Katniss concluded the song, she got a round of applause that involved the entire class. Including me.

That is when I knew it.

I knew it.

* * *

I _know_ it.

I still love Katniss. Nothing can affect that, even though Katniss's true feelings toward me are very vague to me. My deal to protect her is still in full motion. Whatever type of harm Snow wants to do to her will not happen as long as I'm still breathing.

Timing couldn't had been more agreeable to my thoughts.

"Why, good afternoon, Mr. Mellark."

I snap out of deep thought mode and find the sound of the voice belongs to President Snow himself. He stands on a balcony on the wall in front of me, the same evil grin glazed on his face like paint on a wall.

"How are you this fine day?" he asks in fake consideration.

Terrible, I desire to say.

"Fine, sir," I fib. "And yourself?"

"Couldn't be more please to see you willingly arrived. Now then, would you like something to drink?"

"Water wouldn't hurt," I say. Thank goodness. The dry feeling in my mouth can finally be fixed.

"Of course."

A servant I immediately recognize as an Avox brings out a tray with a single glass of crystal clear water on it less than a minute later. I thank him, remove the glass from the tray, and take an extravagant gulp of it. The refreshment it leaves is so purely remarkable I could possibly shed tears of joy.

President Snow speaks again. "Is there anything else I can get you to satisfy your needs?"

"No. This is all I wanted. Thank you," I reply.

"My pleasure. Now, I suppose you're wondering about your presence here. Unless you don't experience curiosity."

"I do."

"Good. Well Mr. Mellark, the room you are being held in is called the Interrogation Room. The purpose of this visit is very simple. I ask a question. You reply with a truthful response. I hope you will be able to keep your word on that."

"Of course I will," I say, a bit of anxiety rushing in.

"Very well. Because if you don't, there will be a punishment. Are we clear on this?"

I nod.

"Good."

He twists his head to face behind him. "Send in Jonathan and Veronica."

I can't even blink my eyes fully when they barge in from doors of the walls adjacent to me. A man with a head of messy brown hair dressed in all black just like Ed and a woman with a dark pixie cut with sober eyes appear in my vision. Veronica has a small whip gripped in her pale hand. Jonathan has a... rock of some sort. Or at least I think it's a rock. Actually, I have no clue what it is that he holds.

The two of them draw uncomfortably close to me. I need to conceal my fear. I know that.

"Let's begin, shall we?" President Snow asks in a tone that leaves me haunted.

Not that I wasn't already.

"Mr. Mellark, I'll start off easy. You and I both are aware of the rebellion occurring. Yes or no?"

He was right. That was a simple question with a simple answer. "Yes. I- I mean, we do."

"Very well. Moving on..."

My heart feels like pounding out of my chest as his words echo in me.

"Second question. When Katniss Everdeen-"

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" I yell out.

"Calm yourself. I did nothing to her. As a matter of fact, she is not in the presence of the Capitol."

"LIAR!"

That's when Jonathan swings the item in his hand. I underestimated its powers. It crashes into my face and shoots pain in my cheek. I won't sugarcoat that the agony that follows is as awful as it can be. I let out a scream.

"Peeta!" I hear the cry rise from the floor. It couldn't be. Is it really Johanna? Wait, hold on...

Is the Interrogation Room really above our cells?

"Go do something about Mason!" Snow demands to a nearby Peacekeeper on the balcony.

Snow shoots me an angry look and a frown that says what I'm doing is exactly what was not mapped out in his wicked pile of thoughts.

"Mr. Mellark, I am giving you a warning now not to interrupt again. I know more severe punishments than you think. Do you understand?"

"Ye...yes, sir," I stutter.

"Now, where was I? Oh yes. When Katniss Everdeen was taking the coil of wire to the water and you were to be guard for Mr. Latier, you knew the plan of Miss Mason cutting out Miss Everdeen's tracker. Yes or no?"

What? Was that the plan? If it was, I was obviously oblivious to it. I shake my head as honest as I can.

His eyes narrow. "What makes you so sure I'd believe that?"

"Because it's the truth," I confidently say.

A moment of silence.

Veronica and Jonathan have their eyes fixed on President Snow.

Snow nods.

The whip flies before my eyes. The rope slaps my left cheek like my mother's hand the day she discovered I purposely burned the bread for Katniss. Except this time it actually harms me. I feel drips of my own thick and hot blood trickle down my cheek like a teardrop. I squeeze my eyes. _Don't think about the pain_, I order to myself.

"Let me ask you again. Did you or did you not know about the plan to cut out Miss Everdeen's tracker?"

"I didn't!" I cry out.

Jonathan swings the unknown item again across my face, and I am haunted with pain.

The chances of me making it out alive so far live in a modicum. Oh, what I wouldn't do to have on last kiss and one last conversation with Katniss now. To have her in my arms again and apologize for every false move I made to harm to. I try gripping onto that warm thought as I feel a tender bruise starting to form.

From there the repetition of this continues. Question from President Snow. Answer from me. Veronica and Jonathan rotating hitting me with their weapons. It happens about ten more times before Snow calls to cease it.

"Young man, don't think this is the end. I'll see you here again next week. That will give you enough time to realize that speaking the truth can save pain. Yes?"

But every response I gave was the truth! Johanna and Finnick being part of the rebellion? Them protecting me so Katniss had a reason to be allies with them? Who would've guessed? Guess President Snow did.

I nod anyways.

"Very well. Edward, please escort Mr. Mellark back to his cell now."

A minute later, Ed returns to the Interrogation Room. I hurry out of my seat and follow him, my entire face feeling like hell.

One week.

This all happens again in one week.

I know it.

* * *

**Story Question:** Why do you think I named the two people who tortured Peeta Jonathan and Veronica? (Hints: Dauntless and cancer)


	5. Shake It Off

**A/N: I'm so sorry I didn't get this chapter in earlier. I had a friend sleep over last night and tonight is my high school homecoming dance, but here's the next chapter. By the ways, thank you to all of you guys who follow, favorite and review- it really makes my day. Also, don't hesitate to leave ideas for this story in the reviews. If I like it, I'll use it and give you credit. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Annie**

I have a dream. In it, I'm comforted in Finnick's arms at the beach. The calm wave makes an aggressive transition to large and brutal. They knocks onto us, and as soon as it returns back to calm, I find that Finnick was swallowed up from the seawater.

I wake up screaming.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry," I immediately mumble. "I didn't want to wake-"

Who was I apologizing to? I look around. No one. I was alone in my ice cold cell, I realized.

I think it's been somewhere around two weeks now in the Capitol. No one's bothered me since I was requested to Snow's office, the same day I discovered why I was even here. Despite the headaches, hunger, mild thirst, and boredom, I'm okay. I haven't been physically harmed. Or at least, not yet.

If I could talk to Finnick for just one minute, I need him to know that he has to keep going. That I'm alright here, though I'd easily pick sleeping with him over the thin filthy mattress that they call a bed here. That I love him and I'll be with him as soon as I could.

I wish I could believe I could have a chance to. But I can't.

A little ding sounds from my cabinet. I crawl over, pull it open, and find a bruise apple and small glass of water that isn't the cleanest. I take a few bites of the apple and manage down some of the water. It has a horrible aftertaste, but then again, doesn't everything in the Capitol?

* * *

I have daydreams about being safe with Finnick for a few hours before the most unexpected turn occurs.

My curiosity bursts when I first hear the angry talking coming from a voice that is obviously owned by a woman. I head over to the gate of my cell and try and view the conflict going on.

Two Peacekeepers have a plump woman with light brown skin locked in their grip and are carrying her over in my direction. She struggles to get out, but Peacekeepers are so strong it's impossible to.

She is thrown into the cell across mine and one of the Peacekeepers lock her up. After that, they dismiss from the area.

The woman huddles herself against the wall and rubs her temples with her fingers. She had the same outfit as mine covering her skin, except hers is a dark red color. I wonder why.

I study her for a moment. Something in me screams familiarity to me, though I can't put my finger on it exactly.

"Excuse me?" I say softly.

She looks up at me. Her large eyes are glossy with tears. "Annie? Annie Cresta?"

If she knows me, I must've seen her before. "Yes, that's me. You seem familiar."

"I'm Portia, stylist for District 12. I believe we met at the ceremonies for the Games last year?

The name continuously reruns in my head. Portia...Portia... "Oh! I remember you now," I say. "Yes, we met."

Portia smiles. "Such a shame they locked you up in here."

"Yeah. I guess." A bit of silence passes between us before I ask, "Why are you here?"

She sighs before whispering, "Red clothes. I'm going to be executed."

My heart sinks fast. "Portia...I'm...I'm so sorry. That's completely unjust-"

"It's okay, Annie. It's okay. I lived a fine life. It has to...come to an end somewhere."

Portia. Having to have a place in this world. A cruel, despicable world. I meet on the verge of crying.

"It's not okay, though. You didn't do...do...anything. How could he...they?"

"Annie, honey, there's nothing you, I, anyone can do now," she whispers. "I have to accept my fate."

No. She can't. I wouldn't accept my fate just like that. Portia looks the sort of woman who wouldn't harm a fly, so why would they execute her?

"Annie," Portia says. I look up at her. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"I've seen you with Finnick and well...I was wondering if you two were, you um, know. Together?"

The thought of Finnick makes my heart ache again. To not have him here with me. Or me with him. Explaining the story could take ages. I just give a brief nod of my head in summary.

A very childlike smile plasters on her face. "I knew it! I'm sorry...I just was curious...oh, you two are such cuties!"

For a while she recalls a tale and I feel bad for pretending to listen. My mind feels fuzzy, drifting off to someplace...

I hear cries of terrors echoing inside. Mikee, various tributes, Finnick returns too.

_Shake it off_, I tell myself, _don't let it reach you, Annie. Don't. Have. A. Breakdown._

I try picturing Finnick keeping his arms locked around me trying to comforting me in these types of moments. It starts to work, I can feel the horror of memories slowly vanish. The world seems sharper now.

Portia is wrapping up her story, and only a few words I can catch are "sweetheart", "unfortunately", and "Dani".

"So yes...I am terribly sorry Annie, for you being placed in here. You don't deserve it. Not...at all."

I shake my head. "I'm okay. It's...you who shouldn't-"

I'm sliced off by the handful of sounding footsteps hurdling our way. I don't need to be asked to predict who it could be. Of course, returning our way is a clan of Peacekeepers. This time though, Ed returned with them.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

"Miss Portia," Ed says with...sympathy? "Please...come this way."

They help Portia up and they take her along. The last thing I see cross her face is a slight grin.

I can't shake off the tears that arrive. Innocent. Pure. Gone. Portia. No. Bring her back. Please.

She will never be back.

Minutes later, Ed arrives solitary to my cell.

"President Snow insists that the fellow prisoners are to view the execution. I'm here to collect you for it."

I shake my head.

"Miss Cresta..."

"He's executing an innocent woman! Why would I agree to view such a thing?" I cry out.

"I have no say in this. The President gives me a chore, and I do it. He is very skilled at consequences for those who don't obey."

I replay the words in my head. All I can receive from it is that Ed isn't working here voluntarily. He must have a loved one at home that he wants to protect. Like Finnick being a, um, Golden boy. Wanting to protect them.

Of course I find myself standing up to go. For Ed's sake.

He unlocks my gate and I follow him out.

I know I will not be okay by the end of this.

* * *

Story Question: Thoughts on Ed?


	6. Everything Has Changed

**A/N: I know this chapter is way overdue and I'm so sorry for that. High school is more stressful than I thought and the homework hasn't been helping. Despite that, I'm going to finish this fanfiction even if it kills me. Which means this weekend will be lots and lots of writing because I want to finish this before Mockingjay Part 1 releases. If you have any ideas for this story at all, comment them in your reviews because that means I can write more chapters. Until then, happy reading!**

* * *

**J****ohanna**

Peeta was so quiet ever since the torture he received and I don't blame him. Whatever Snow did to him got him. He was fragile glass and Snow was a hammer. I hear Peeta arise from sleep at times screaming for Katniss. Nightmares. They can plague your dreams to an awful extent.

I'm in the middle of chewing on my beaten up apple when Ed comes back. Trailing behind him to my surprise is Annie, who looks too okay for a Capitol prisoner, healthy to be exact. Her eyes glimmer with specks of tears.

Ed somehow looks upset too. "President Snow insists that the fellow Capitol prisoners come to view an execution that's occurring in moments to come. I'm here to collect you."

"And why would we do that?" I snarl. "You can tell President Snow that he can go watch his own execution!"

"Johanna..." Peeta hisses under his breath. That's the most he's directly spoken to me in ages.

"Miss Mason," Ed says. He mouthes the words, I wish I could.

I want to say something, but nothing comes out. His response took me by surprise. Omitting Finnick, I don't know any Capitol employees that are disloyal. Which means, Ed isn't working for Snow by choice.

"We should go then," Peeta says, barely audible. "Ye..yeah."

No one debates the idea. Annie comes over to help me up and we depart.

This was the only time I get a sharp glimpse of Peeta. Bruises decorate one side of his face. The other is glazed in whip marks. No rueful smiles in sight. Just a dull frown. One that says, "Help. I'm damaged." He turns away from me and walks ahead.

Ugh. I hate it when I feel sympathy towards others.

Annie taps me on the shoulder lightly. "Is Peeta okay?"

I shake my head. "Can't sugarcoat it, Cresta. Snow did him in."

"How bad?"

"He screams for her."

"Katniss?"

I grunt. "No, for Snow's granddaughter. Yes for Katniss!"

Mixed emotions run over Annie's little face. In the end, she says, "Well I hope he feels okay. It's difficult here."

"Yeah. Kinda feel bad for him. You know?"

I look over to see Annie's eyes locked on the ground. Oh crap. Something got to her mind again. Think, Johanna. What would Finnick do?

I give her a little shove on the shoulder. Annie yelps an "oomph!" and looks up at me.

"Oh, sorry. Thanks," she says.

"Something caught up to you?" I ask.

Annie shrugs. I think it really means yes, but better be safe and not ask. I really don't want to risk it to that point to where she covers her ears with her hands and squeezes her eyes really tight, because comforting her during that is a subject I'm super vague in. Only Finnick has that kind of ability.

I don't have to ask anyway. Ed pulls open a door at the top of the, um, thousandth case of stairs we climb. A gust of wind kicks in my face and I have to crumple it in as a result.

Outside, heaps of people are arranged in a large circle. From the distance, I can make out the tips of tall skyscrapers, and conclude we're on the rooftop of this...place. Snow's mansion? A prison? I don't honestly know.

Peeta, Annie, and I follow Ed as he walks. We finish the hike at the front of the circle. Apparently, stupid Snow has arranged spots for us, and Peeta was placed between Annie and I. As corny as it sounds, I wanted to be next to Annie since I'm the only one at this point who could give her the friendship she needs now. Watching this execution will make her ten times worse than she already is.

North of us is a podium with the Capitol seal on it. Clearly, Snow is going to do some speech there before the actually killing. A few feet away from us is a clan of cameras being set up. Which means that the execution is being televised.

Of course it is.

And at some point, Snow walks up the podium. Every trace of noise mutes as soon as his finger taps the microphone, sending a high-pitched sound flying.

"Good afternoon," he starts. "It is such a day with such an event. Today, you stand to watch the reminder from the Capitol that no one is safe from rebellion, whether it be a fraction of the definition or the whole. Here to pay the consequences are four members of the Capitol who chose to fight against the people who nursed and cared for them, Miss Portia Venaslin, Rosamund Dashner, Maia James, and Crowley Taylor."

In jumpsuits the shade of blood, the three women and single man are escorted to the center of the circle by Peacekeepers. I look over at Peeta and Annie, who struggle to conceal emotions. Peeta especially. Annie says something to Peeta, something I can't make out.

"They were my prep team and stylist," he mumbles back.

Now it all makes sense. Snow wants Peeta to try and get on their side. As if that will work on him. For a sensitive guy, he's pretty smart. He wouldn't fall for his side, especially now. Once again, I can feel sympathy for him.

Before anything can come out of my mouth, I feel a warm hand grasp mine tight. Peeta. I glance up at him, give him a puzzled look, but all I get is a single nod. On his other side, Annie has her hand in his left one. She cocks her head a bit and ruefully grins. I try to reply with an attempt of a smile but somehow feel as if I failed.

Snow was still talking through all this, but it's only now when I pay attention again.

"So without further ado, viewers of Panem, let the ceremony begin."

An abundance of Peacekeepers marches in two lines parallel to each other to the center of the circle, where Portia, Rosamund, Maia, and Crowley are arranged next to each other. They surround the four of them, guns aimed to their heads.

"And in five...four...three..."

I grip onto Peeta's hand a bit tighter for support and squeeze my eyes shut.

"...two...one..."

The sound of multiple gunshots echoes the still air and everything has changed.

* * *

**Story Question: What do you think of the full Mockingjay trailer? **


	7. Long Live

**Peeta**

I understand now why the clothes Portia and my prep team wore were the certain shade of red: it's to conceal the sight of the blood.

Their lifeless bodies are taken away by the same Peacekeepers who shot them. Part of me believes that the four innocent workers of the Games are still alive. A small part tells me that to let it go. They aren't coming back.

Everyone else is evacuating the rooftop and I still can't process all of this. What could they have possibly done to deserve such a fate? If anything, it was probably so frivolous and President Snow is just as wicked as normal, refusing to let it go and to show Panem how extreme consequences are. It's sick to even think about this now.

Johanna, on my right, has a set of conflicted emotions scurrying her face. To my left, Annie has her hands covering her ears and her eyes are sealed shut. What to do now, I don't know.

Katniss enters my thoughts at that moment. I recall back in District 11 when the man who did the salute was shot before our eyes, the terror that passed through her then. Oh, Katniss. Is she okay? Is she safe? Did she just watch what I just watched? I'd give up anything just to know now.

Ed comes over to us a minute later and returns us to our cells. No one speaks at all. We stop at Annie's cell first, where she immediately squeezes herself in the corner of her cell as she shakes involuntarily, hands still pasted over her ears. Johanna and I are taken to our cells and Ed leaves after locking us up with only us and our thoughts.

* * *

I fall asleep shortly upon returning.

A dream blossoms.

Katniss and I are both in a white room, the Interrogation room to be exact. She's asleep, passed out, I can't tell. Attempts to reach her fail when I find my hands locked in chains attached to the wall.

I cry out her name multiple times but no movements occur.

And footsteps echo in the air. I cock my head to eye the balcony, finding President Snow standing there.

"Such bravery," he hisses, a smile crossing his face. A despicable one.

In his left hand, I see, is a revolver.

He points his left arm straight up.

"No!" I scream. "Please! Don't shoot her! Please!"

President Snow looks at me. I mouth the word please.

He ignores it.

The gunshot goes off.

"KATNISS!" I cry. "KATNISS!"

"KATNISS!"

* * *

I jolt up with heavy breaths and a tear sliding down my cheek. "KATNISS!"

"Peeta, Peeta, calm down. It's okay."

I hear Johanna's words but they don't circulate in my head. My hands shake, my head bangs with a new headache, and my eyes pool with tears.

"Katniss...Katniss..."

"Katniss is okay," Johanna says. "She's okay."

"How do you know that, Johanna? How?" I argue. "How do you know he hasn't done anything to her? How do you even know she's safe wherever she is? She could be locked up here and we wouldn't know."

"Peeta, I think you're-"

"SHE COULD BE DEAD!"

"Peeta! Quit overreacting! Whatever you think originated from bad dreams, so can you please shut the hell up about Katniss because she's fine!"

I gulp from intimidation.

Johanna sighs. "Hey, look, I'm sorry, Peeta. You just need to understand that you need to worry about yourself now. Wherever Katniss is must be safe since she's not here. I wouldn't worry all that much."

"How can I not worry? I...I can't explain it. I just really want here to be safe."

"You're acting exactly like Finnick. He must've been rubbing on you. He's the same way with Annie."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

She scoffs. "Oh God, no. How could I? He's been a good friend of mine for a long time. Dating him would be like dating your brother. Please tell me you wouldn't date your brother."

That brings back so many memories from District 12 with Isaac and August. Sure, I was the youngest and possibly the most vulnerable, but they usually kept an eye out for me. They were good brothers, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't care for them.

Which reminds me of my parents as well. My gentle dad. My abusive mother. What ever happened to them? Did Snow request their deaths? These questions unravel in my head like a roll of ribbon.

"No, I wouldn't," I say.

"Do you even have siblings?"

"Two brothers. Older." I shut my eyes for a second, trying to eradicate thoughts of them. "How about you?"

"One. Her name was Taylor. As much as I can she's alive...well she is in spirit, I suppose. Died at seven."

My heart grows thick of despair. "I'm so sorry, Johanna."

A lengthy string of time passes before she whispers, "Yes, but he isn't."

I know who she's talking about.

* * *

And _he_ requests me when I wake up from another nap. I'm perplexed. I wasn't suppose to return to him until another week. It's only been two, three days.

I follow Ed back the same route to the Interrogation Room, and my heart is on the verge of bursting.

The same chair waits for me in the room. I stride over and sit down just as I presume I have to do, and Veronica and Jonathan appear from a different door as soon as I'm comfortable, their eyes as cold as President Snow, who shows up shortly after.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Mellark. I see you found yourself stable enough to attend with me at this time."

_Well, it wasn't exactly a free option_, I think to myself. "Yes, I think I am."

"You must understand, though. They did crimes that could not be ignored. And what would we do with more criminals especially now?"

"Put them in the cells..." I mutter. Thank goodness he doesn't catch it.

"It's a shame they worked for the Capitol. And speaking of the Capitol, I called you in here today for a...favor from you."

Favor? What makes him believe I owe him a favor?

President Snow inspects my face. "Confusion will disappear as I explain, Mr. Mellark." He takes a sip of some beverage before continuing.

"I will not take you as a victim of naiveness, because you are intelligent enough to know the rebellion that could occur. The Capitol has gone through this much prior to now, and a reoccurrence wouldn't be pleasant, now would it?"

I shake my head in agreement. President Snow shows a thin smile.

"Yes, well, I propose a series of commercials, if you must, to show the districts that the Capitol will do as much as it takes to provide for them, and the acts of District 13 are frivolous.

"And this is where you will attend, Mr. Mellark. You and Miss Cresta will star in these commercials as well and show the districts who is on their side. Are you to reject this deal, well, Miss Everdeen will not have the greatest of a fate-"

"I'll do it," I reply in an instant. Anything to keep Katniss safe. But getting Annie to star in the commercial? That's going to be a tough task for President Snow to complete. And then I remember: Finnick. He wants to use Annie against Finnick, like in the arena with the jabberjays. I remember Katniss telling me about it.

"I appreciate your cooperation very much," President Snow says. "You are dismissed now."

I get up and head to the door. Right as my hand reaches the knob, I hear the haunting words of him say, "Ah, yes. I must inform you prior to then that you will be due here in five days again. Have a fine day, Mr. Mellark."

* * *

As I walk back with Ed, the idea of being in a Capitol trailer with President Snow sticks into my mind. Because, if he were to succeed, he would long live until the day he passes. More Games. Katniss's inevitable death.

Katniss's inevitable death.

Katniss's death.

Katniss's.

Katniss.

* * *

**Story question: Will Annie agree to do the commercials?**


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